


Magic Mouth

by DictionaryWrites



Series: Brought To Justice [5]
Category: Doctor Strange (Comics), Marvel, Marvel 616, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bondage, Desperation, Dirty Talk, Intersex Loki, M/M, Magic, Marks, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 19:39:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14456349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: After they finish their little date, Loki is rather desperate to get Stephen into a private area as soon as possible.





	Magic Mouth

**17 th June, 2012**

“You want dessert?” Stephen asks from the other side of the table, and Loki’s eyes flit up to look at him, easily torn away from the colour of the wine he had been examining. Loki had been rather excited to come to a _restaurant_ , of all places, particularly when he had Googled the establishment and realized it was centred entirely about free range  Stephen’s eyes are focused on Loki’s own, their gaze intent, and Loki feels himself smile.

“Yes,” he says, resolutely. Stephen’s eyes narrow slightly as he looks at Loki, but Loki remains unblinking.

“I thought you didn’t like sweets,” Stephen says.

“I loathe them,” Loki confirms.

“I’ll pay the bill immediately.”

“Excellent.” Loki and Stephen stand from the table as once, paralleling one another like two dancers, even with a table between them. Loki leans down, taking up his coat and artfully drawing it upon his shoulders, over the fabric of his deep-blue suit, and when Stephen returns, sliding a wallet into his own, Loki holds out his _ridiculous_ little cape, and Stephen puts it on. Loki puts his hand upon Stephen’s hip, and within a moment, they are outside Stephen Strange’s odd little menagerie in Greenwich.

The dizziness hits Loki again, and he feels himself sway on his feet. Stephen’s hands catch him by his waist, preventing him from falling, and Loki heaves in a little gasp of breath, his palms steadying himself on Stephen’s chest. Stephen chuckles, quietly, and he touches his hand against Loki’s cheek.

“You learned a new spell all for me?”

“Learnt is a rather… Relative term,” Loki admits, hazily. “I have never quite got the length and breadth of dimensional transitways. Many times I’ve found myself lost in the ether, falling for minutes on end— Oh, don’t _look_ at me like that. There are numerous magicks I excel at that you would struggle to even _fathom_.”

“I have no doubt you’re right,” Stephen says softly, his lips quirking up at the edges. “I’ll help you with dimensional transitways if you’ll teach me that cute little Skywalking trick.”

“I’m not going to teach you my _signature_ ,” Loki retorts, but before he can say anything more, Stephen’s mouth is on his own, his ridiculous facial hair tickling against Loki’s lips, and Loki gasps as Stephen’s tongue flicks against his own, wet, and clever, and devastatingly good. It’s been a _long_ time since Loki’s been touched like this, since he’s felt another’s mouth against his own sensitive lips, sensitive tongue, since he has felt the heat of somebody’s body against his own, like _this_.

“Do you want to come inside?” Stephen asks, softly.

“It would hardly be appropriate to stay out here,” Loki replies, and within a moment, they are in a bedroom – the transition is utterly smooth, from one breath to the next, and Loki _groans_ at how buttery smooth the enchantment feels, how _easy_ Strange makes it. “I despise you,” he says.

“You’re hardly the first,” Stephen replies sweetly, and then he pushes Loki back toward the bed, until Loki is falling back upon the silken black sheets, his legs spread as he falls, and he looks up at the other man, lying prone in his place. He can feel the tingle-crackle of magic upon the air, and he throws his own seiðr to join it, comparing the differences in energies: Stephen Strange has magic that is polished to a shine, clean and copper-tasting on the air, and Loki’s is a great deal earthier, based in the very elements about them. Loki grabs Stephen by the front of his ridiculous robes, dragging him onto the bed and pulling him between Loki’s thighs, and then Loki catches him in another kiss, this one smooth and leisurely. Stephen’s hands are clever where they move to undo Loki’s tie, throwing it aside, and then he slides Loki’s suit jacket and coat from his shoulders as one, throwing those aside as well. Loki tightens the grip of his knees at Stephen’s hips, then flip them over, beginning to pull at the silly gold fastenings of the robes of the _Sorcerer Supreme_. “I heard that,” he says, faux-wounded.

“Good,” Loki murmurs. “I thought it very loudly.”

“So _sarcastic_.”

“It’s one of my strengths.” He strips away the robes, and he leaves them in a heap upon the bed, bearing Strange’s chest to the air. Loki immediately presses his hand into the thatch of silver and black hair that comes thick between his pectorals, feeling the stiff hairs under his palm, and Stephen frowns at him, his brows furrowing.

“What, you like chest hair?”

“I love the sensation of it,” Loki whispers, dragging his fingers back and forth through it. “So different.” Stephen’s hands go lower than Loki’s hips, beginning to slide under the waistband of his trousers, and Loki catches his wrists, suddenly. “I’m not human,” he says, abruptly. He rather meant to make this confession more gracefully than this, but in his defence, he is most… distracted.

“Alright,” Stephen says. “So?”

“So— I don’t have, ah—” Loki trails off, then surges forward, kissing Strange hard upon the mouth, their teeth clashing in the sudden roughness of the move: he puts across the truth of the matter with a sudden, psychic push, and Strange lets out a sound of low understanding that becomes a moan as Loki sucks at his tongue.

“That’s fine,” Stephen assures him, and his hands move lower again, this time greedily, excitedly. He unbuttons Loki’s trousers, drawing them away from his body, and Loki banishes them before they can reach his knees, sending them the same way as his black brogues and his socks, and he hears Strange’s soft, enraptured gasp: it makes Loki’s insides quiver. “On your back,” Stephen says harshly, and Loki is on his back before he even thinks of it, the bedsheets entangling themselves around his wrists and his ankles, leaving him spread like a sacrifice on this altar of black silk and Egyptian cotton, and he pulls experimentally at his bonds, finding they have no give in them at all.

Loki relaxes.

Stephen has his clever hands on Loki’s thighs, pressing down on their thick, corded muscle, and he is looking between Loki’s legs like he has some sort of prize before him, like Loki’s cock and cunny are the most beautiful things he’s ever seen, and Loki takes his lower lip into his mouth, staring down at the other man.

“Oh, _Loki_ ,” Stephen whispers, dragging his lips over the length of Loki’s left, inner thigh, and Loki feels himself shiver. “You are beautiful.” A heat spreads through Loki, beginning with the breath of Stephen’s exhalation against the crease of his inner thigh and spreading over his skin, and he attempts to spread his legs even wider, but his bonds keep him in place. Stephen drops his mouth over Loki’s cock, which is small and pale in the dim oil light of the room, its head pink. Loki’s not quite hard yet, but as Stephen ghosts his mouth over the length of it, his breath _intolerably_ warm, Loki cannot help but squirm in his place, taking in hitched little gasps.

“Stephen,” he whispers. “Pray, do not _tarry_ so, simply—”

“Ooh, your language gets _very_ poetic when you’re on the wire, doesn’t it?” Stephen asks, and then swipes two fingers down each side of Loki’s entrance, pressing between the labia minora and majora. It makes the nerves cry out for the sudden touch, _just_ too dry, and Loki throws his head back, letting out a cry as his hips tip uselessly into the touch. “What happened to assimilating?”

“I’m doing my best,” Loki murmurs, and then Stephen dips his head and his mouth, his whole _mouth_ , is suckling wetly at the very base of Loki’s cock, teasing into his entrance and making Loki clench desperately about him. He fists his fingers into the silk that ties him in place, attempting to tip his hips further into Stephen’s mouth, but Strange is unwavering, his tongue drawing teasingly along the lines of Loki’s lips and never slipping _inside_ , nor coming up to the more directly sensitive flesh of his cock. “Unlike yourself.”

“Who says this isn’t my best?” Stephen replies easily, the words spoken although his mouth is _pleasurably_ busy, and Loki opens his mouth to spit out some insult, but then Stephen thrusts his tongue _inside_ , and Loki is crying out, grinding himself as best he can against Stephen’s mouth, and his mouth, his _mouth_ —

Stephen makes slick, loud slurping sounds as he sucks and thrusts his tongue in turns, his fingernails digging hard enough into the dense flesh of Loki’s thighs as to leave sharp marks in the pale skin, and Loki is overcome with the sensation that builds within him, tingling from his lips and gathering directly within his very _core_. He is beginning to _drip_ , now, feels the wetness come away from within him in thick, musky droplets, and he smells it upon the air, edged with the scent of ice.

“I cannot wait to fuck you,” Stephen’s voice is hot in the shell of Loki’s ear, and Loki cannot help but moan, wishing he could fight his way free of the binds about his ankles and wrap his thighs tightly around Stephen’s neck and shoulders, keep him from ever lifting his head away from its thrusting work at Loki’s entrance.

“Really?” Loki asks, breathily, “Why is that?”

“You’re so very cold,” he whispers, the words directly against Loki’s ear even he drags his mouth up the length of Loki’s cock, and Loki stares down at him as he takes Loki _easily_ into his mouth – of course it’s easy, of course it is, he isn’t so big, not really, because it’s less of a cock and more of a— “And I want to see how much it takes me to make you run _hot_ inside.” Loki heaves in a ragged gasp as Stephen hums about his cock, making vibrations dig within Loki’s very _soul_ , and Loki is coming before he knows which way is up, his hips stuttering against Stephen’s all-encompassing mouth, against the digging grip of his thighs, against the dizzying magic of the man himself, and when Loki _finishes_ , he lies still in his place, staring up at the vaulted ceiling instead of at Stephen Strange himself.

“Did you mean that?” Loki asks in a whisper.

“Oh, yes,” Stephen murmurs lazily, dragging his tongue over the inside of Loki’s thigh. “I’m going to fill you to the brim.”

“Untie me,” Loki says, and Stephen laughs.

“And why _ever_ would I do that?”

“I want to ride you,” Loki says, unerringly. A beat passes, the bonds slither away, and Loki launches himself upon the other man with new aplomb.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Check out [my Tumblr](http://dictionarywrites.tumblr.com) for more, or if you want to send in a request.


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